


If I Kiss You

by chiefguideandcenter (kuriositet)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 05:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuriositet/pseuds/chiefguideandcenter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One doesn't have to be a doctor to care for someone when they're ill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Kiss You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anamia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anamia/gifts).



> I just wanna say a quick thanks to everyone who has put up with me and my many attempts at filling this request. <3
> 
> The title is a line from Regina Spektor's Better.

Enjolras is not a light sleeper, but he is woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of something falling over, followed by three loud sneezes in quick succession. It takes him a moment to register the noise as sneezes, and then another one to realize the bed is empty next to him. By the time he is stumbling out of bed and through the hallway to the bathroom, there have been two more sneezes and a whimpering noise. He finds Combeferre sitting on the edge of the bathtub, rubbing his throat like it is really sore, and his eyes are tearing up. There is a small pile of tissues at his feet and an open bottle of aspirin by the sink, like he had just been about to take the pills when the sneeze attack hit him. Combeferre sniffles loudly and it’s probably the most miserable Enjolras has ever seen him.

“I’b sorry I woke you ub,” Combeferre says as Enjolras takes the aspirin and pours two pills into his palm, handing them to Combeferre along with a glass of water. He winces as he swallows and leans into Enjolras’ touch as Enjolras strokes Combeferre's hair out of his face, feeling his forehead, which is burning hot.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get you back to bed, okay?” Combeferre nods, but looks a little dazed, like he’s falling asleep already. “Can you walk?” Another nod, then a few seconds pass before Combeferre actually stands, leaning heavily against Enjolras.

“I’b callig id sick toborrow,” Combeferre mumbles into Enjolras’ ear, and he can only agree.  
“Yes, you are.”

Combeferre manages to get back to the bedroom, but that’s all the energy he has left in him, and Enjolras is sure he is asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. He drapes all the blankets over Combeferre, tucking him in and stroking his hair out of his eyes again; it’s at that annoying length where no matter what he does the hair always ends up there. Enjolras likes it though, and stroking Combeferre’s hair is oddly comforting for him too. It makes him feel less helpless and at a loss of what to do to make him feel better. He curls up around Combeferre to go back to sleep after a while, and is happy when sleep finds him almost immediately.

*

For once, Enjolras wakes up early—earlier than Combeferre even—and after calling Combeferre in sick to the hospital, the first thing he does is text a carefully chosen number of his friends. Bahorel immediately offers to stop by with some homemade chicken soup (after his mother’s secret recipe) and Jehan and Feuilly both recommend various kinds of tea (all with a disgusting amount of honey in them) and Joly, who had gotten a list of symptoms, assures him that it sounds like the common cold and that he should make sure Combeferre drinks enough water. He’d rather not come over though, because he has his board exams coming up and would prefer not to get sick. Courfeyrac prescribes ice-cream for the sore throat and says he might bring some over himself later.

Of course not all of the responses come immediately or at the same time, but Enjolras takes a book with him to read in the living room as his phone silently buzzes against his thigh every time there is a new text. He gets the reply from Joly around nine and immediately gets up to place a jug of water by Combeferre’s bed along with some more aspirin for him to take when he wakes up.

His phone buzzes again while he is sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking Combeferre’s hair, and this time it’s Jehan responding, which sends Enjolras to the kitchen to search Combeferre’s not so little tea collection for anything with lemon or ginger. He finds a jar full of honey as well and calls it a success when he even manages to get the kettle working. He makes a cup of lemon and ginger tea with a spoonful of honey in Combeferre’s favorite mug.

When he brings it back to the bedroom it is to find an empty bed. He notices, as he places the mug on the table, that the aspirin and half the water are gone. He hears the bathroom door open in the hallway a moment later, and if Enjolras’ voice sounds a little high-pitched when he asks, “What are you doing out of bed?” it’s nothing he will admit to later on.

“Bathroom,” Combeferre says, like it’s obvious. He is still in his pajamas and his hair is standing up in all directions, cheeks a little flushed, but his eyes look clearer behind his glasses while Enjolras herds him back to the bedroom. “I can walk, you know,” Combeferre says, rather fondly actually, and Enjolras presses his lips to Combeferre’s brow in a quick kiss before ushering him into bed and slipping his glasses off and carefully placing them on the bedside table.

“I know. You need to rest though. And drink your tea before it gets cold.” Combeferre does as he’s told and Enjolras gets another text message, from Bossuet this time, even though Enjolras hadn’t texted him to begin with. “Bossuet says Joly always watches cartoons with him when he’s sick. Do you wanna watch cartoons?”

“Not really,” Combeferre says. “I was thinking I could read some though.” He is already reaching for his glasses as he speaks, but Enjolras is faster and covers Combeferre’s hand with his own before he can pick them up.

“Absolutely not. You need to take it easy.” Combeferre’s face falls before turning into a confused frown as Enjolras grabs a book from the bedside table and climbs over him into bed. “However, I will read to you.”

“Thank you.” They adjust the pillows behind their backs before curling up together, the book placed firmly on Enjolras’ lap.

“Let me know if you get tired,” Enjolras says before he opens the book. “Or hungry. Bahorel’s bringing you soup for lunch.” Combeferre makes a contented noise and curls up a little more, just enough so he can comfortably rest his head on Enjolras’ shoulder, and Enjolras starts reading.


End file.
